


I'm Sticking With You

by SnowHime



Category: Stranger Things - Fandom
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sleeping Together, Summer 85, The Upside Down, boys showing off, dramatic bratty Steve, harringrove week of love, monster hunting, pining pervy Billy, stuck together, they literally stuck together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 01:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17798684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowHime/pseuds/SnowHime
Summary: What starts out as a boring summer afternoon patrol through the Hawkins forests quickly turns into a life or death battle with a pack of demodogs for Steve and Billy.But after escaping death by a hairsbreadth they soon realize they have another, suddenly much bigger problem. It turns out that by accident or maybe the worst luck in the world they are now glued together. And not just anywhere or anyhow... but firmly holding hands!Now the two rivals have to learn to work together and trust each other to get out of this sticky situation.





	I'm Sticking With You

Billy keeps thinking about how there are better ways to spend a late summer afternoon than trudging through the undergrowth of a forest. At the pool for example or the quarry at least, even though the water there is green and smells weird. Then again, there are worse people to be around on a summer afternoon because this way at least he gets to hang out with Steve Harrington who’s walking in front of him right now, dressed in shorts and a tight t-shirt.

Technically they’re not hanging out, they’re on patrol or whatever, armed with a spiked bat and a crowbar respectively. They’re not even friends, civil at best. But Billy isn’t going to fuss about the details, not when the view ahead is that great. Steve’s shorts are _tiny._

Also, he’s so focused on their mission, protecting the town from monsters because of course Hawkins is the portal to hell, that Billy has all the time to indulge himself in looking without being caught. Maybe there aren’t A LOT better ways to spend a summer afternoon after all.

That is until Steve stops dead and Billy almost runs into him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, peering over Harrington’s shoulder.

“I think I see something there...” Steve says quietly, so close what the warmth of his fresh-mint breath tickles Billy's jawline. Brown eyes go all big and wide as he looks into the darkness of the pine trees. “Okay, Hargrove”, He glances back with a frown. Long fingers squeeze the baseball bat like a saving straw. “Follow me and don't do anything stupid, got it?”

“Like it, when you get all bossy on me, Harrington” Billy teases, nudges him in the shoulder and gives him a leering grin when Steve turns to him with a little frown.

He’s not scared and Steve knows that, knows that Billy lives for the moments when they actually do find Upside Down stuff and gets to swing his crowbar at some ugly ass nightmare critters. It makes the days of endless, uneventful patrols worth it.

Moving closer, it hits them. Sticky-sweet and rotten, the smell of death and decay. Nestled between the rotting roots of a tree, black and tainted and covered in something gooey and gross, is a pile of what looks like giant eggs, sticking together in clusters and protected by poisonous little spikes.

It's not the first time they see them in the Hawkins forest. Actually, they’re one of the reasons why they are here, to find and destroy them before they open up and give birth to a new generation of freaking Twilight-Zone creatures.

“Shit.” Steve steps closer, covering his face with a red bandana he wears around his neck, nervously tucking some hair behind his ears in the process.

“Ew, that's really stinks. Man, remind me not to wear white Nikes next time we go into the forest, will you?” he bitches, voice a bit too whiny for the guy who supposed to be the previous High School King.

“Yeah maybe don’t go monster hunting dressed like a fashion victim.” Billy snorts and rolls his eyes. Steve’s stupid brand shoes cost more than half of his entire wardrobe, so his sympathy is kinda limited.

Steve sends him quick unamused look, proudly standing here in his pastel Lacoste outfit, absolutely refusing to feel bad about himself just because some greasy metalhead doesn't know shit about real fashion.

They’re as different as day and night. Billy pretty much prepared for gross shit to go down, in his pair of old jeans cut off above the knees and a stretched out, threadbare tank top, his chucks have seen better days as well.

He takes a black bandana that’s been stuffed in his back pocket, wraps it around his face and adjusts the aviators he’s wearing on his nose, tightens the grip on his rusty crowbar.

“Let’s get ready to rumble.” he says with a grin and a wink Steve can’t even see, but it’s about the principle.

“Man, I'm _always_ ready.”

Destroying nests is only half as fun as wrecking some demodogs or those oversized slimy spider-like creatures that have been showing up lately, but it’s still pretty satisfying when his crowbar connects with the first egg in an ugly wet squelching sound and it pops like a giant blister, spraying goo everywhere.

“Fuck!” Billy shouts as some of the substance hits him “They’re juicy today!”

“Is it me, or do you really sound excited, Hargrove?” Steve chuckles, breathy and focused, before swinging his nail bat, which alright, might be a little bit too dramatic and completely unnecessary, but who will judge him? _Billy_ ? That guy just _lives_ on drama himself, twenty-four seven. He hits the other dirty-dark egg right in the middle.

“No shit, Sherlock!” Billy’s laugh is muffled by the bandana over his mouth but his eyes are blazing with a wicked kind of joy. “This is the best entertainment this hick town has to offer!”

He spins his crowbar once, for the show because he likes it when Steve is looking, and smashes another egg.

The truth is, Steve himself was always kinda looking forward to their secret little forest meetings. Not like he was enjoying Hargrove's loud obnoxious company, but hey, for the monster hunting? This guy is _perfect_. He was unfairly, ridiculously strong, with his tan muscular arms and broad shoulders. Aggressive, all crazy laughter, sharp teeth and wild eyes. Smart.

Billy was really dangerous, but that only made Steve feel safe with him.

Sure, they still may hate each other guts all they want, but neither of them is stupid enough to think that they don't need each other in their town-saving secret operation. Steve knows despite everything Billy will always have his back.

To be honest, it’s almost fun on days like this, when no actual monsters were wandering around. Like they were on the basketball court once again, but actually played in one team.

“Hey!” Grins he, getting really worked up, feeling how sweat runs down his back, on insides of his thighs, “You're kinda slow, buddy. How much you've got, like, three? Watch this, big guy” He destroys another one, doesn't need to look back to know what deep blue eyes are locked on him. He knows it. “Five, how's about that?”

“Not bad, Harrington!” Billy teases, “But can you do two at once?”

He jumps over the remains of some destroyed eggs into the center of the nest and takes a big swing, brings it down hard. He gets two and a half, the blow tearing them to shreds in a big spray of goop.  
  
Billy stops there, turns around to check if Steve has seen his performance, wiping some of the slimy substance off his forehead. It’s weird stuff, sticky and runny at the same time.

Steve's not gonna lie, it's really cool. Billy is radiating power, standing there, all big and firm, illuminated by the dim sunlight, on the top of the destroyed enemies nest. He looks like some chiseled character from the those romance novel covers for lonely housewifes Nancy's mom loves to read, or like the warriors in Dustin nerdy comic books.

Steve stares at him, catching his breath, chest rising and falling.

“Impressive, Hargrove,” He's like, trying not to sound too excited, acting cool. “But don't think I'll let you win so easy.”

Billy may be stronger, but Steve is _definitely_ faster. He can move really quick, can spin his bat like he is dancing some strange deadly dance, can use that gross slick under his sneakers to skate like he’s on the ice of a hockey rink. _Stealthy, like a ninja._

Something in him desperately wants to prove that he is just as good as Billy, that he's worthy. Maybe, _just maybe_ , secretly he even wants to get praise from Hargrove. To see approval on those strong features.

He crushes another one, then another, sways his bat, keeps head high. Feels good about himself, caught up in the momentum until something goes terribly wrong.

It happens in the few seconds they’re distracted, with checking out each other’s progress again. There’s a low groaning sound, seemingly coming from below their feet and then a moment of complete silence before the the remaining eggs suddenly start to pulse and quiver and shoot a fountain of slime directly at them.

Billy and Steve recoil, cursing and trying to shield their faces from the stuff. It stops a second after it started and for a moment there are no other sounds but dripping noises and a disgusted groan coming from Billy. But then the few eggs left intact start to vibrate and the silence is pierced by a shrill sound, like a needle going straight into the eardrum.

“What the hell?!” Billy shouts over the noise, both of them covering their ears.

The forest floor underneath them starts shifting as a couple of vines, hidden in the soft soil before, begin to move and coil. Billy bats his crowbar at one that’s trying to wrap around his ankle, kicks at another. They slither away, retreat to what’s left of the nest.

The noise stops just as abruptly as it started but the following quiet is heavy, ominous. They exchange a look, blue eyes meeting brown finding the same expression of anxiousness there.  
  
“Something just happened.” Billy swallows hard, widens his stance and peers into the shadows of the forest around them. They’re getting darker by the minute as the sun is slowly starting to set.

Steve makes a sharp breath, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

As if to prove Billy right, a bloodcurdling howl answers the cry of the eggs from somewhere deep inside the woods. They know that sound, know the creatures that make it.

“Shit.” Billy breathes. “They’re coming.”

Something is tearing through the undergrowth, the sounds of breaking sticks and rustling leaves heralding it’s approach, growing louder quickly.

A form peels out of the shadows of the woods, it’s a four-legged, eyeless monstrosity made of gnarly long limbs and wiry muscles working underneath hairless slimy skin. A second later there’s another one, then two, then three one after the other closing in, the seams of their heads quivering before they open, multi-leafed flowers of death, and the pack of demodogs charges.

The distance between them shrinks fast and even on first glance it’s clear that there are way too many monsters and they are way tho under armed to deal with them, also the headstart the boys have won’t last long.

“Fuck, let’s get out of here! We gotta call for backup!” Billy yells and motions Steve to follow him as he jumps over the mess of broken eggs, always keeping an eye on the other boy’s slender form.

Steve looks back quickly, makes a little startled sound, and before he knows what's happening, he trips and falls on his knees. The nails in his bat scratch his shoulder, but he manages to catch himself with his left hand, which lands in the sticky jelly-like insides of broken egg, the stuff burning his skin a little. His black, brand-new Ray-Bans slips off his face, swamps into the slimy goo of corrupted dirt.  

Steve can’t find his footing again, slipping and struggling in the puddle of slime unable to get up again. Trapped. He grunts, trying his best to suppress the panic that rises inside and makes his chest hurt and throat go tight. Jesus, how could he get so distracted and not consider the possibility of this scenario?

Nancy's voice goes, _you're an idiot, Steve Harrington,_ inside of his head.

“Billy?” he calls, not even knowing what he wants to ask, too scared to care how helpless he might sound.

Billy is already a few steps ahead when Steve falls but he turns around without hesitating, sprinting to his fallen companion’s side.

“Quit goofing around, Harrington! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” He grabs Steve’s upper arm, tries to pull him up but his hand slips on slime-slick skin. ”Jesus, get up!! Give me your hand!”

Steve doesn't need to be asked twice, stretches out his hand, let's Billy grab it. This is giving him basketball court flashbacks of Billy's mean eyes, the feeling of the cold floor on his back when he pushed him down instead of helping him to get up. But this time Billy takes the outstretched hand firmly into his own big and warm one, ignoring the foul smelling substance it’s covered in and intertwines their fingers for better grip. Then, he pulls so hard it catapults Steve back to his feet and almost into Billy’s chest. Steve goes dizzy for a moment from the sheer force with which he tugs him close.

The first demodog has reached the nest now, so Billy doesn’t waste a second and just starts running, keeping his grip on Steve’s hand tight, pulling him with and away towards the edge of the forest.

“Run!” he shouts as Steve stumbles on the first few steps but manages to keep in pace “Run, run!”

It's like he is a newborn deer, awkward and clumsy on his lanky legs and scared out of his mind. Billy's hand holds his own with a deadly grip, so hard it would be painful if it wasn't so comforting. Billy won't let him down, won't even give him a chance to lose his balance again.

With every step, the distance between them and the maws of the hungry monsters is  dwindling. Billy’s survival instinct yells at him that he should let go of Steve’s hand, that he’d be faster like that but he can’t bring himself to do it. If there’s one thing Billy Hargrove is not, it’s a coward so he strengthens his grip and holds on tight.

“Shit, _shit_!” Steve panics again, when one of the demodogs leaps and almost catches them. “We need to get to the car NOW!”

Billy turns half around, swings the crowbar with his free hand and hits the creature straight in its ugly face. The beast screeches and stumbles, takes another one down with it, two bodies turned into a heap of struggling limbs. From the corner of his eye, Billy can see Steve’s nailed bat connect with the flank of another one.

Suddenly they’ve got their headstart back, it’s only a few feet wide but it might just be enough for them to get away. Ahead, the edge of the forest comes into view, gleaming brightly in the light of the setting sun. It’s ten steps away, then five, then two and just when one of the demodogs almost catches up with them, they finally break out from between the last line of trees and into the open sunlight of a wide field.

The monster behind them howls in pain when the bright rays hits it, the pungent smell of burning flesh immediately filling the air. Billy and Steve don’t look back don’t falter in their steps until they reach Billy’s Camaro that’s parked a few hundred feet away from the edge of the forest.

Only then do they stop, both panting hard, hearts hammering in their chests and sweat streaming down their backs but their hands still intertwined.

Between the trees, they can see the pack of demodogs glowering and snarling, unable to follow them outside into the sun.

“Fuck.” Billy rasps. “That was close.”

The last word hasn’t even rung out yet, when one of the monsters jumps from between the trees, making the boys scream in panic and Billy scramble to open the door.

The beast doesn’t make it far, starts to burn immediately and has to retreat back into the shadows but Billy still pushes Steve through the driver’s door as soon as he manages to get it open.

“Get in! Scoot!” He shouts and climbs in behind him ushering Steve to clamber across the console and into the passenger seat. He slams the door shut as soon as he’s safely inside.

Steve lets out a relieved sigh, throws his head back at the seat, unseeing eyes staring at the dark roof of the Camaro. Breathes in and out. In and out. Everything is alright.

“Hey! Don’t pass out now.” Billy says from beside him, still holding his hand, squeezing once. “You doin’ ok. We made it, now let’s get out of here.”

Billy’s right they made it out, only _almost_ got eaten alive this time. And soon he he’ll be home again. He doesn't really feel safe there, in the cold and big house too close to the forest for his own liking, but at least, there it’s safe and clean. His parents are on a business trip again, but dad’s office has nice expensive liquor, and somewhere in moms bedroom hides a little bottle of valium that he really could put to a good use right now.

Steve blinks, mindlessly runs his hand through his messy hair, looks at Billy with still doe-wide eyes.

“Yea.” he agrees. _Thank you for saving my ass there_ , stays unsaid and settles on the tip of his tongue. He's not sure if he is ready to be that vulnerable in front of Hargrove, that guy made of steel. “Man. We, uh, need to tell Hop. He’ll go totally batshit mad about this, but we gotta let someone know that there is another pack of demodogs wandering in the woods by the road. Pretty _angry_ demodogs.”

“No shit. We pissed those fuckers _off_ !” Billy shoots a look over at the forest where the monsters are slowly retreating one after the other. “I say let’s book it and come back with heavy artillery, huh? Hopper’s gonna have to lend me that pump gun _eventually_.”

Going all soft on his passenger seat, Steve finally allows himself to relax a bit as the threat of getting torn to pieces by thousands of sharp teeth stops being so real. Even the waning sun is bright enough today, still warm and summery, and strong enough to scare the monsters away and make them hide in the dark shadows, finding safety there, biding their time till nightfall.

Tiredly observing how golden light gleams on Billy's dirty blond hair and glimmers on the medal of the Virgin Mary around his neck, Steve gets a strange feeling, like something is off. Realizes it, a little too slow.

 _Huh_ . They are _still_ holding hands?!

Billy notices it the moment Steve does. Stares for a second, dumbstruck. Fuck, it’s awkward as hell, quickly he tries to drop the other boy’s hand, but he won’t let go.

“Come on, Harrington. We’re safe now. You can let go of my hand, princess.” He teases, squeezing Steve’s hand again, because he can and because he thinks it’s kind of cute that Harrington is still holding on to him. But the hand stays where it is, fingers firmly interlaced with Billy’s.

“Oh.” Steve huffs out a laugh, a bit nervous and embarrassed at the same time. He tries to let go, but that's pointless Billy's grip on him is still as strong as before.

“What? _Me_?” he scoffs and it comes off scandalized, like Billy blamed him for committing one of the deadly sins. Or all of them. “Hargrove. I, uh, appreciate your humor, but can you, maybe, quit it already and let me go?”

He tries again, with no result. Actually stomps his feet, glares at Billy, annoyed.

“Harrington.” Billy growls a warning, Steve’s little prank is starting to piss him off because there are still a bunch of fucking demodogs outside, waiting to get a chance to eat them. “C’mon, it’s not funny! I gotta use my right hand if I wanna drive us out of here. Quit messing around.”

“Um, helloo!” Steve goes, rolling his eyes. “I already said it’s not me! What are you, deaf? Maybe try not to squeeze my hand like a fucking barbarian and free both of us from this shit?”

Billy does try to unlock their hands again, angrily so and with more force this time. He roughly yanks at their joined hands when suddenly a stab of pain runs through his palm.

“Ouch!” Steve yelps next to him.

“What the hell?!” Billy stares down at their hands with horror as he realizes his fingers and palms are firmly stuck to Steve’s. “I can’t… I can’t let you go!”

“W...what?..” Steve mutters, follows Billy’s gaze slowly, face dull, like he's in some school lecture and does not understand a word in it. “I. Wait, that's crazy, let just me try-” He pulls away again stubbornly, yelps in pain again and stops, defeated.

It’s like they are glued to each other with “Krazy Glue”, or something like that. Steve knows if they keep trying, the result would probably be some _really_ bad skin injuries. And he doesn't want to lose his skin, even on only one hand! He puts too much care in it, including NIVEA extra soft creme every night, right after the shower.

“Jesus! Oh my God,” Steve cries out loudly. With a deer in a highlight look, he pulls at his hair, anxiety rising again. “What are we gonna do now? What the fuck! How did this even happened, _God-_ ”

“We’re fucking stuck together?!” Billy groans. “Are you kidding me?!”

He yanks their hands closer to inspect them, pulling Steve over to his side in the process. There’s some dark substance that has already dried between their fingers and on parts of the back of Steve’s hand. Billy leans in to sniff on it and scrunches his nose in disgust at the foul smell.

“Fuck, what’s that black shit?! What did you touch?” He hisses. “God, if I knew you’d smeared yourself with some kind of Upside Down glue I wouldn’t have touched you.”

“If _I_ knew it would stick us together, I would’ve rather stayed there and let the monsters to eat me, thank you very much.” Steve snaps, after sitting quietly and letting Billy check their hands, feeling like a naughty child who got his knees scraped because he wouldn’t listen the elders and did what he wasn't supposed to do. Thinks about that burning pain on his hand he got when he fell on the shattered demoegg. Curses under his breath.

Suddenly there’s a screech coming from the outside as another demodog tries to leave the forest.

They both startle at the sound and as Steve jerks his head around he bumps his head on the Camaro's roof.

“Shit.” he curses and rubs the sore spot “Looks like someone out there doesn't know when to give up.”

Billy’s awfully pale for his usually tanned self as he nods.

“Ok. Listen, we gotta get the fuck out of here, so as long as we’re glued together you’ll have to help me shift, ok? You know how to drive stick?” Billy steps on the clutch and turns the key in the ignition. “Use your free hand to put us in reverse and I’ll do the steering.”

“Yeah, alright, let's do that, man.” Steve agrees hastily, following Billy's instructions. “And maybe if we survive the ride we can wash this stuff off.”

Billy laughs at the gallows humor while he checks his rearview mirror for obstacles as he steers the wheels into position. Sometimes Steve surprises him.

“We’re going to your house, radio Hopper and then soak our hands in paint thinner or something.” he agrees. “Let's just hope nobody sees us like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little sticky-sweet present for Harringrove fandom on the week of love ♡
> 
> CeruleanHeart wrote Billy's parts, SnowHime wrote Steve's ones. It's our first work together, so please, tell us what you think!:)


End file.
